


Resolutions

by Tikatu



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Canon - TV, Family, Gen, Humor, New Year's Resolutions, Pranks and Practical Jokes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-17
Updated: 2013-05-22
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:50:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tikatu/pseuds/Tikatu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gordon makes a daring New Year's resolution. Can he keep it?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Renunciation

**Author's Note:**

> This was the result of a fan fiction challenge at a site that is probably defunct now, one dealing with the New Year's resolutions that Thunderbirds characters might possibly make. The most obvious one is shown in this fic, but it's going to take a lot more than 2500 words to tell the tale! I originally posted it in the days leading up to New Year's, but not this time. Many thanks to FrankieCTB2 for being my sounding board on this one. I hope you all enjoy it. Older fic, no appreciable edits. _Disclaimer:_ I don't own them, I just write about them.

The annual New Year's Eve bash at Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward's palatial mansion was the usual big success. There was plenty of food, plenty of drink, plenty of music, plenty of dancing, and plenty of pretty girls to dance with.

Gordon Tracy was feeling mighty happy with himself and the world at large. He and his family had made it through another year of hairbreadth escapes as the operatives of International Rescue. He was proud of his family, proud of the tradition that they had started and of the services that they provided, rescuing those who had no hope.

He wandered out onto the terrace, breathing in the chill and bracing air, carrying with him a glass of scotch. The clear night was a rarity in England this time of year, and Gordon found it refreshing compared to the heat being generated inside the ballroom. Besides, Her Grace, Deborah the Duchess of Royston, had been looking for a Tracy, any Tracy, to dance with and he had no intention of being the sacrificial lamb this year!

His attention was drawn to a familiar, deep voice conversing with someone not far away. Moving quietly, he drew near to find his father, billionaire Jeff Tracy, in conversation with his old friend and confidante, Lady Penelope.

"I don't know, Penny. I wish I could make him see that all of his fooling around is hurtful. I just wish he'd get serious about things," Jeff said.

"I'm sure he would, Jeff, if you confronted him about it," Penelope replied. The two moved away, still talking, but Gordon stood in utter shock.

_Fooling around? Hurtful? Get serious? Could Dad be talking about... me?_

Gordon knew only too well his reputation as a happy-go-lucky young man with a keen sense of wit and an eye to practical jokes. His outlook on life was one of "a little song, a little dance, a little seltzer down the pants", and had been ever since his horrific hydrofoil accident. Life was too short to waste on being solemn and full of angst; it was better to live and enjoy life while you had it. But now, as he gave his father's words serious consideration, he could see that his practical jokes could be hurtful to his brothers.

He tried to be careful; his pranks were usually more detrimental to pride than to the actual body. Though he could think of a couple of times when his jokes went wrong and more lasting damage was done. Like the time Virgil actually got bitten by the spider in his bed, or when Alan got the dye from the shampoo in his eyes and Brains had to step in with emergency medical treatment.

_I guess Dad's right. I should be more serious and stop fooling around. Or else I might really hurt somebody._

He sighed and tossed off the rest of his scotch. Then he straightened up and went in search of the rest of his family.

It was a tradition with the Tracys that once the stroke of midnight had passed and the guests had gone away, they would gather in the small drawing room of Lady Penelope's manor house and, as a family, toast their absent wife and mother, Lucille, then reminisce about the year just past. This year was no different. Jeff and his sons met in the richly appointed room, along with Jeff's mother, Eleanor, and had a session of "remember when". The incidents brought the family alternately to the somberness of sorrow, the laughter brought on by comedy, and the pride engendered by a job well done.

When things were winding down, and individuals were making toasts of their own, and joking about New Year's resolutions, Gordon cleared his throat. Everyone's attention focused on him, and suddenly he felt nervous. He cleared his throat again, and scratched his ginger hair.

"Uh... well... this is the time of year to... uh... turn over new leaves and all that sort of thing and... I... uh... wanted you all to know that I've made a resolution for the New Year. My... uh... resolution is... to stop playing practical jokes." The last five words came out all in a rush and his listeners weren't sure they heard him correctly.

Scott cocked his head at his younger brother. "Let me get this straight, Gords. _You_ are telling _us_ that you're turning over a new leaf? That you resolve _not_ to play practical jokes on us?"

Gordon scratched his head again, and looked at his shoes, then sideways up at Scott. "Uh... yeah. That's what I said. No more practical jokes. My... uh... New Year's resolution."

His brothers looked at each other, then burst out laughing.

"Oh, that's a good one!" crowed Alan, pointing at his older brother and, quite often, partner in crime. "You, the king of the jesters, giving up pranks? Never happen."

"I give you a week," Virgil chimed in, laughing. "Not even that! There's no way on earth _you_ can stop with the practical jokes!"

"I agree with Virge. There's no way! Though I must admit," added a grinning John, down from Thunderbird Five for the holidays, "it'll be a hoot to see you try!"

Gordon's face flushed red, and took on a stubborn look. He pointed at his brothers and said angrily, "You wait! You just wait and see! None of you are taking me seriously, but I'll keep this resolution!"

"Whoa! Calm down, son!" Jeff said, stepping in and putting an arm around Gordon's shoulders. "I'll have to admit that it would be very nice to have some serenity around the house and not have to deal with the fallout from some of your more... inventive pranks. But don't you think you're taking this a little too far?"

"Don't _you_ think I can do it, Dad?" Gordon asked, looking his father in the eye.

Jeff sighed. "Gordon, you can do anything you put your mind to."

"Thanks for the support, Dad." He turned to his brothers. "You bozos just watch and be amazed. A new, _serious_ Gordon Tracy is on the horizon."


	2. Retaliation: Alan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to FrankieCTB2 and AmandaTracy for being my sounding boards.
> 
>  _Disclaimer:_ I don't own them; I just write about them.

_January 3rd._

The Tracy family was winging its way back to the South Pacific after a week of fun and frolic in England. The previous day had been Jeff's birthday. To his surprise, the gag gift that Gordon usually presented him with was missing. Instead, he was presented with the latest electronic PDA with a tiny plasma screen.

"Thank you, Gordon, for the wonderful gift," Jeff said with a smile. "I didn't think you'd take this 'no jokes' quite this far, but I appreciate it."

"Hey, gotta start somewhere," was Gordon's laconic response.

On the way back, three of the brothers played poker in the passenger cabin while Scott co-piloted with their father. Absent from the little card playing group was Gordon, who was alternately reading or watching over Eleanor, offering to get her anything she needed.

"It's good to have you on earth, John," Virgil said as he looked at his cards. "It was nice of Brains to offer to take a rotation in Thunderbird Five so you could be with us over the holidays."

"Yeah," Alan said, putting up two fingers and getting two cards from Virgil as a response. "Too bad that Tin-Tin and her father decided to visit some of their old friends in Paris over New Year's."

"Too bad for you, you mean," John quipped. "The rest of us wouldn't have been able to cut in all night." He threw some chips into the center of the tiny table. "I'm in."

"At least with Tin-Tin there, I wouldn't have had to dance with the Duchess of Royston," Alan said, making a face. "And you would have had plenty of opportunity to dance with Tin-Tin. You may not have noticed, but we are stepping back in our relationship. Taking a good look at it and changing it if necessary. I wouldn't be surprised if we end up just being good friends."

" _You're_ stepping back, you mean," Virgil said with a scowl. "I don't think Tin-Tin is of the same mind. I call."

"Sure, she is. Do you think her father would have been able to drag her away to Paris if she wasn't?" Alan retorted. "I call your bet and raise you fifteen."

John watched as Gordon got up from his seat and approached the cockpit. He stepped inside, and a few minutes later, Scott came out.

"Going to join us?" Virgil asked.

"Next deal. Gordon's sitting in as co-pilot now," Scott said. He hooked a finger over his shoulder. "What do you guys make of Gordon's New Year's resolution?"

"It won't last," Alan scoffed. "No way he can keep it."

"Like I said, by January seventh, he'll be back to his old, prankster self," Virgil added.

"Really?" Scott asked. "Well, I had a little conversation with Dad about it and I brought up what you said, Virge. Dad thinks he'll last longer than a week, though he doesn't hold out any hope that Gords will be able to keep the resolution much longer than that. In fact," Scott smoothed back his hair, "we have a little wager on it."

"Oh ho!" John exclaimed, grinning. "Dad's putting his money where his mouth is, is he?"

"Yep. I wanted to know if you all wanted in on it. Everyone picks a date by which they think Gordon will cave. Money goes into a pot and winner takes all," Scott explained.

The brothers looked at each other and grinned.

"I'm in." "You can count me in." "Give me some paper; I've got my date."

"Who's going to hold the pot?" Alan asked.

"Dad," Scott said. "He says 'you can trust me'."

"Yeah, right," Virgil said with a grimace.

"Well? Who else?" Scott asked.

John looked over at Eleanor with a speculative eye. She seemed to be napping, oblivious to their conversation. "Maybe Grandma should hold the pot."

Scott raised an eyebrow at John. "Are you kidding? She'd be appalled that we were betting on Gordon's resolution."

"Hmm. I guess you're right, Scott. We'll just have to trust Dad," John replied, turning back to the game. "Now, where were we?"

The game continued and Scott was dealt in. Looking at his cards, Alan said slyly, "Y'know, guys, this might be a good time for getting some of our own back from Gordon. If he's serious about his resolution, he wouldn't be able to retaliate, if you know what I mean."

"Alan, that'd spoil the bet!" Virgil exclaimed. "He's gotta cave without any outside interference."

"Right," Scott affirmed. "Goading him to break his resolution is off-limits. Understand?"

"Oh, all right," Alan said, pouting. "I just thought that this was a golden opportunity to get back at him for some of the pranks he's played on us in the past. Like the dye in the shampoo."

"And the spider in the bed," Virgil said, wincing. "I wouldn't mind turning that one around on him." He sat up straighter and his face took on a pious expression. "But I won't. At least, not until after he breaks the resolution."

"I distinctly remember the skin dye," John said, shuddering. "He said he wanted to see how I looked in green, as in 'little green men from Mars'."

They all looked at Scott. "Yeah, well. There was the time he gave me monogrammed bikini underwear for Christmas," he said in a low voice, hoping his grandmother wouldn't hear him. "Then he stole all my boxers and left me with those..."

"I remember that!" John said with a snicker.

"Still, I'm not jeopardizing my bet," Scott said, turning his attention to the cards. "I call."

"I call and raise you fifty," said John.

"Ooh. Either John's got his game face on or he's got a good hand," Virgil said. "I fold."

"Too rich for my blood," Alan said with disgust, laying down his hand.

Scott gazed at his younger brother, who saw the scrutiny. John's eyebrow quirked upward in challenge, and Scott, looking at his cards, tossed the requisite number of chips into the pile. "I call." He put down his cards. "Full House. Now, what do you have, Johnny boy?"

John smiled and lowered his hand. "Read 'em and weep, Scott my man. Four of a kind."

Scott groaned as John swept the chips over to his side of the table. Jeff's voice came over the intercom. "We're on final approach to the island. Everybody fasten your safety belts."

After the family had unloaded the jet and was settled at home, Scott, Virgil, John, and Alan all approached their father with their wagers on when Gordon would fail in his resolution.

"All right now. Alan picked the fifth; hmm, you don't have much faith in him, do you? Virgil chose the seventh. Scott's date is the tenth. John's is the twelfth, and I choose... the fourteenth." Jeff read off the list of dates. "I have the money here in the envelope and it's going into my safe right now. Any questions?"

The Tracy sons shook their heads. "Just don't tell him about the bets," John said.

"And no sabotage!" Virgil added.

The little group broke up and everyone went their separate ways.

_January 4th._

The day went by quietly as far as Gordon was concerned. He buried himself in Thunderbird Four's maintenance. He swam his usual laps. He went surfing with Scott. He helped Grandma in the kitchen after dinner. Not a practical joke in sight.

Alan watched with growing concern. He was certain that _he_ knew his next older brother better than anyone else, and this resolution was a passing fancy. But the fact that Gordon had lasted even _this_ long after coming home showed perhaps Alan had misjudged his brother's commitment to the resolution.

 _So, what do I do?_ Alan mused. _Do I just leave things as they are? I'm sure to lose the bet that way. He really seems to be serious about this! Or... do I hedge my bet and get in a bit of satisfaction as well? I'm sure that if I gave him some... incentive, he'd come after me with another prank. He wouldn't be able to resist!_ He grinned to himself. _Sorry, guys! I have no intention of losing this bet!_

_January 5th_

Gordon woke up early with a smile. Yesterday had been good. He had kept himself busy so wasn't at all tempted to play a joke on anyone. Helping out his grandmother had felt particularly good; with Kyrano still in Paris, she was in charge of the house and at her age, could use an extra set of hands. In fact, he had already promised her that he'd help make dinner. She had looked at him with surprise but had accepted his offer.

He headed into the shower, pulling off his old t-shirt and dropping his shorts. Turning on the hot water, he stepped in, starting to scrub. Pouring some shampoo in his hand, he rubbed it through his wet hair. It made a fine lather that he could feel beneath his fingers. He hummed as he scrubbed his scalp vigorously. Bringing his hands down to rinse them, he stopped to stare at the lather in shock!

_Purple?_

He frantically thrust his head under the stream of water, watching with dismay as bright purple suds ran into the tub and down the drain. Without finishing his shower, he hopped out of the water to look at himself in the mirror.

_Oh. My. God._

His ginger-colored mane was now a deep plum color. Not only was the hair on his head a new hue, but also his eyebrows had been stained. He looked down to see, with relief, that his other bodily hair had escaped the dye.

Reaching back into the shower, he pulled out his bottle of shampoo to pour it down the drain. The usual clear goop was a violent violet color.

_How the hell...?_

His mind flashed back to another bottle of shampoo and his own hands pouring a red chemical into...

_Alan!_

He scowled. Automatically, he ran through the possibilities for revenge. A scenario came to mind and he smiled wickedly. Then he was brought up short by another memory... the memory of his New Year's resolution.

Gordon groaned. _I am going to regret that resolution, but if I don't stick with it, I'll be more of a laughing stock that I ever would be with purple hair. At least I still have some counteragent from when I did this to Alan. I might not get it all out, but I should make it to breakfast without looking like a clown!_

Drying off and wrapping a towel around his waist, he looked in the space under his bathroom sink for the non-descript bottle he had left the antidote in. Frowning, he began to paw through the cleaning supplies.

"Looking for something?" came a voice from the doorway.

Gordon turned to see Alan leaning against the doorjamb, holding the bottle of antidote between two fingers, and a digital camera in the other hand.

"Smile!" A flash went off and Gordon blinked.

"You've had your fun, Alan. Now, may I please have the antidote to the dye?" Gordon asked with exaggerated patience.

"This?" Alan indicated the plain bottle, swinging it back and forth.

"Yes." Gordon held out his palm.

Alan grinned, and then poured the contents of the bottle into the outstretched hand.

Gordon cursed as he brought up the other hand to try and catch the liquid. A goodly amount splashed on the floor, but he managed to salvage enough to rub through his hair. Alan laughed as his brother leapt back into the tub and turned on the water.

"Remember, Gords! Cold water only!" he crowed as he left Gordon's quarters.

A half hour later, Gordon arrived at the breakfast table, his hair a strange shade of puce and his eyebrows still a dark violet. His father took one look at him and shook his head. Scott grinned, while John tried hard to stifle a laugh. Virgil leaned over to say, "Maybe you should wear John's sash from now on. That orange is going to clash with your hair." Alan sat back looking like the cat who ate the canary.

Gordon said nothing, but sat down to eat. Eleanor took one look at him, and at Alan's expression. After breakfast she took her youngest grandson aside, putting him to work washing the breakfast dishes by hand.

Alan waited all day for Gordon to exact his retribution. He even waited up to see if his brother was going to put something nasty in his bed. But he waited in vain.

_I can't believe it! Everything I did and... nothing! He stuck to his guns. I never thought I'd see the day. Well, Virgil's up next. Let's see if Gordon **can** go the whole week!_


	3. Retaliation: Virgil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to FrankieCTB2 for being my sounding board and especially Virgil's zinger in this chapter! I hope this story gives you a chuckle or two.
> 
>  _Disclaimer:_ I don't own them, I just write about them.

_January 6th._

"Mole to Thunderbird Two. I am returning to the surface," Gordon called to Virgil. His voice was weary; this had been a long and labor intensive rescue. Saboteurs had tried to blow up an experimental biosphere that the World Space Agency was using to simulate conditions on Mars prior to establishing a scientific station there. The explosion failed to damage the outer containment dome, and the surface structures were still intact, but the web of tunnels beneath the surface had suffered. Several had collapsed, trapping scientists in small pockets of air in different locations.

Scott used the thermal imager in Thunderbird One to pinpoint those small pockets, while Virgil and John in the Excavator, and Gordon and Alan in the Mole, dug out the scientists. Gordon was surprised that there weren't more fatalities.

He removed his hard hat and scratched his scalp again. An early morning call to Brains in Thunderbird Five had been fruitful; the scientist told him where a supply of the dye counteragent was hidden in the lab. Gordon winced a bit when he realized that, because of his pranks, the engineer felt he had to keep some on hand ... just in case.

Another shower with the counteragent faded the puce down to a walnut brown, and he managed to get his eyebrows to match. He remembered vividly the bright orange that his little prank with the dye had left Alan's hair, an orange that took weeks to fade.

 _At least my hair looks a natural color this way,_ he mused, as he scratched his itchy scalp. _Some freckles and Alan would have looked like that old puppet, Howdy Doody!_

The dye incident might have put some strain on his work with Alan in the Mole, but Gordon was as serious in his work for IR as he was striving to be outside of it, and the strain never materialized. He did notice the sideways glances that Alan had favored him with as they flew to the Danger Zone, but he'd ignored them.

He finished securing the Mole in the pod before heading up to the flight deck.

"Ready to go?" Virgil asked his passengers.

"F-A-B," replied John, settling into his seat. He had been upbeat all day as he worked on the rescue with his brothers.

"Sure was strange to hear Brains up in Thunderbird Five," Alan commented. "I know he tried to keep his stutter to a minimum, but the more excited he got..."

"Makes you appreciate John's talents up there, doesn't it?" Gordon remarked as he settled back and closed his eyes.

"Hey!" Alan exclaimed. " _John's_ talents? What about _mine_?"

"What _about_ yours?" Gordon riposted, happy to take at least a verbal potshot at his pestiferous brother.

When they arrived back at base and had been debriefed by their father, Gordon went off to take a late swim. Scott watched from the balcony as his younger brother dove into the lighted waters of the pool before turning back to the lounge.

"Well, Alan. Looks like your lack of faith in Gordon has paid off," he said with a slight smile. "Paid off for the rest of us, that is."

"Who could have known that he'd take this resolution thing so seriously?" Alan groused.

"Don't worry, Alan," Virgil said with a smile. "He won't last. He's bound to cave soon."

"Yes, but will he cave tomorrow?" John asked. "After all, that's when you've bet he'll drop his resolution."

"He will. You'll see," Virgil said, confidently.

"Just don't try to sabotage it," Scott warned. "That's not fair to the rest of us."

"I'm not _that_ desperate," Virgil retorted. He rose and stretched. "Good night, all."

The others murmured their goodnights as the group broke up. Virgil sauntered down to his room, looking as nonchalant as he could. But once the door was closed, he rubbed his hands together with satisfaction. Pulling out a covered bucket, he gazed down at the fruits of a morning's labor.

"How are you little guys?" he cooed, picking one of the wriggling creatures from the bucket. "Ready to go to work for old Uncle Virgil? Hmm?"

The creature's lack of response didn't concern Virgil. He placed it gently back in the bucket among its fellows, covered the bucket once more. Then, checking to see that the coast was clear, he tiptoed down to Gordon's room.

The late swim relaxed Gordon to the point that he was ready to hit the sheets as soon as he reached his room. He went straight to his bathroom, not bothering to turn on the light in his bedroom. Slinging off his Speedos and slinging on the same shorts he had worn the night before, he brushed his teeth, pulled a comb through his hair, turned out the bathroom light, and crawled into bed. He lay on his stomach, thrusting his arms beneath the pillow. The sheets seemed to be a bit sandy to him, so he made a mental note to change them in the morning.

He was just beginning to doze when he became aware of a tickling sensation on his leg, then another on his bare back. He wriggled a bit to get rid of the feeling, only to notice _something_ slide off his back and onto the bed. As his mind processed this information, a similar ticklish feeling moved slowly across his scalp, bringing him to full wakefulness. Reaching up cautiously, he smacked his hand against the side of his head, getting a strong, sharp pinch in the web of flesh between forefinger and thumb as a result. He fumbled with his other hand to tap his touch lamp and as it came on, he looked with a stupefied gaze at something small but solid hanging onto his hand for dear life.

"Auuuggghh!" he shouted, shaking his hand violently. The small creature went flying across the room to crash into the wall with a resounding crack!

Gordon flung back his covers and found more of the wee beasties crawling over his sheets, his legs, his shorts. A sharp pinch in a particularly sensitive spot made him screech again, and he reached down to yank the offending creature from inside his shorts. He jumped out of bed, nearly stepping on one of the little things that had fallen from his mattress to the floor.

Stooped over, he stumbled back into his bathroom, pulling down his shorts to assess the extent of the damage. A small cut was spreading blood all over his garment, and Gordon didn't quite know how to treat the wound.

 _Can't exactly put a Band-Aid on it!_ he realized. In the end, he daubed the site with an alcohol swab, eliciting a sensation that nearly made him jump out of his skin! After holding a clean, wet washcloth to the wound until the bleeding ceased, he smeared it with a bit of anti-bacterial ointment. Cleaning and dressing the hand wound took another few minutes, then finally Gordon took the time to see exactly what kind of creature had inflicted such pain.

 _A hermit crab?_ He held the little crustacean on his hand, watching it crawl across the length of his fingers and try to continue its way down his arm. Picking it up again, he placed it in the stainless steel basin. It tried hard to climb out of the sink, but couldn't make any purchase on the smooth sides.

"There's more than one of you little fellas out there," Gordon said to the crab. "I guess I'd better go round you all up."

He entered his bedroom and turned on the light. Glancing at his bed, he could see at least a half dozen of the feisty creatures crawling around, spreading sand and dampness all over his sheets. He stepped on another as he crossed the room to his dresser and ended up hopping the rest of the way as the critter gave his foot a good pinch.

Dressing quickly, he grabbed his damp towel and collected the crabs, putting them in it as if it were a bag. "Seven, eight, nine, ten...," he counted under his breath as he scooped them up. Dumping them into his tub, he went back and stripped his mattress, examining the sheets carefully for any strays. Then he got down on his stomach and peered under the bed. One hermit crab came out after him, tiny pincers ready to do battle with his nose. He grabbed the fighter up and added him to the group in the tub. Then he rummaged around in his desk for a flashlight and dove back under the bed.

"Seventeen, eighteen... and the little guy from the sink is nineteen," he muttered. "I hope there isn't a number twenty roaming around somewhere. I'd better get a bucket and carry these guys back to the beach."

He found a damp, sandy bucket conveniently sitting on the balcony at the head of the stairs to the pool and confiscated it to transport his battalion of bed invaders back to their natural habitat. The walk to the beach from the Villa was a long one and could be treacherous at night, even using the packed path of ground pumice that his father had laid down for beach access. But at last he reached the white sands of the beach and selected a convenient spot in the receding tide to dump his former bed mates.

"Goodbye, little guys. It wasn't very nice knowing you," he said as he turned back to make the climb up to the house on the bluff. On his way up, he tried to decide which of his brothers had done this to him.

_Got to be Virge. Probably a payback for the spider. But what can I do to upstage..._

Gordon stopped short in thought and motion as he remembered his resolution. He slapped his thigh in frustration.

"Damn! I _can't_ get back at him! I just can't break this resolution! I bet he did this _knowing_ I wouldn't retaliate! Just like Alan!" He huffed out a breath and his face took on a mulish expression. "Well, I'll show him. I'll show them all! When Gordon Tracy resolves to do something, he sticks to it!" Then he calmed a bit. "Besides, I want to show Dad that I can be serious about life."

His decision reaffirmed, he resumed his climb, hastening back to his bedroom to finish cleaning up in the aftermath of the night's invasion.

_January 7._

In the morning, Gordon came down late, yawning and scratching his still-itchy scalp. The rest of the family was already at the table and greeted him with varying degrees of enthusiasm.

He had given himself another dye solvent treatment so his hair was now a light brown, but it was getting brittle. He knew now that he had to wait for the rest of the color to either fade away or for his hair to grow the color out. Looking at his grandmother, he contemplated asking her to buzz his hair off to short stubs so the color would grow back as his natural ginger. _Maybe later. We'll see how fast it fades after today._

"Good morning, everyone. Good morning, Grandma," he said, kissing her on the cheek.

"Why, good morning, Gordon. My, but that purple color is fading right away. But I think I like you better with your natural color and not this mousey brown," she said as she put a plate heaped with pancakes in front of him.

"Good morning, son," Jeff said from the head of the table where he was reading the stock reports he'd printed out from the Internet that morning. "Did you sleep well?"

"Well enough, Father," he replied around a mouthful of pancake.

Virgil, who sat across the table from him, took a bite of his breakfast, then sipped his coffee and said smoothly, "I hear you have crabs, Gordon."

Gordon nearly choked on his orange juice. Jeff put down his papers to frown at his aquanaut son. Eleanor looked up from where she had just sat down with her own plate of flapjacks and frowned at Virgil. Scott and John had puzzled expressions on their faces, but Alan kept his head down and continued to shovel food into his mouth.

Gordon recovered his breath. He glanced over at his father, then turned his gaze to Virgil with what could only be called a deadly expression.

"I did, but they're gone now," he replied.

Jeff's eyes flicked back and forth between his sons before resting on Gordon. "Gordon, is there something I should know? Perhaps a medical issue that needs treatment?"

"Oh no, Dad. It's not what you think," Gordon stammered.

"Are you sure?" Jeff asked, putting down his coffee cup and turning his full attention to the matter.

"Yes, Dad. I'm sure. There's no problem," Gordon assured him. _At least, not any more._

"Okay, son. But if you need anything..."

"Don't worry. I won't."

Virgil sat back with a slight smile. "I'm glad to hear you got rid of the problem, Gordon," he said magnanimously.

Once breakfast was done, Alan confronted Virgil. "What the hell did you do?"

"Nothing more than you did, Alan. Just securing my bet. After what I put him through last night, there's no way he won't try to get back at me."

But though Virgil looked over his shoulder all day long, the expected retribution never came. He spent much of his time checking what he was working on and with, examining his food for strange additives, even taking apart his shower head and stripping the sheets from his bed before he hit the hay. At one point during the day, Grandma grabbed him and hauled him down to help her in the laundry. His eyes grew wide at the sandy sheets and the pair of blood smeared shorts that he stuffed into the washing machine. His own groin felt very uncomfortable when he realized just where one of the crabs must have wounded his brother.

_I got him but good with that crab business and that crack this morning. He had plenty of opportunity to really plaster me, but he left me alone. Maybe he's serious about this resolution business. Nah! He can't be. But I have a feeling that Scott's going to win this bet. Just three more days, and Gordon'll cave. He has to!_


	4. Retaliation: Scott

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to FrankieCTB2 for being my sounding board! 
> 
> _Disclaimer:_ I don't own them, I just write about them.

_January 8th_

Gordon couldn't stand it anymore. He just _had_ to do something. It was driving him _crazy_!

"Grandma? Could you give me a buzz cut?"

_January 9th_

"I am really surprised, Virge," Scott said as they relaxed by the pool. Gordon had gone with John for a run on the beach. "After what you did to him, he still hasn't retaliated."

"I know. I'm still looking over my shoulder, waiting for him to reach the breaking point," Virgil replied with a shudder. "Though after what he had Grandma do to his hair yesterday, I'd think he would start his campaign of retribution with Alan. After all, Alan never did have to resort to such drastic measures when Gordon got him with that red dye."

"Oh, he looks so funny with his hair cut so short!" Scott said with a chuckle. "He hasn't had it that short since the Olympics!"

"Still, it doesn't seem to have fazed him any." Virgil adjusted his sunglasses. "I think he may be really serious about this 'no pranks' business."

"Here you were the one who was so sure he'd cave in a week," Scott sneered.

"Well, just one more day and you're out of the running," his brother pointed out.

"I know." Scott scowled briefly.

"You're also the one who said, 'No sabotage'," Virgil reminded him.

"I know that, too." Sighing, Scott got up. "I'm taking a swim. Join me?"

"Sure. Sounds good."

Later, Scott left his shower, tousling his hair dry with one towel, another wrapped around his waist. He opened his underwear drawer and rummaged around in it. His days in the Air Force had taught him to keep his room clean and neat, but his cluttered drawers were one bad habit he had gone back to when he left the military.

He fished around for a pair of boxers. Instead, he came up with one of the pairs of monogrammed bikini underwear Gordon had given him. He held it up with distaste.

"Oh, hell. I thought I'd gotten rid of all of these!" He slung it into the wastebasket by his desk, and grinned. "Two points and the crowd goes wild!" He returned his fishing expedition. At last he came up with a clean pair of boxers, which he quickly donned.

A further investigation of his dresser showed a severe depletion in his wardrobe.

"Man, I think I need to do laundry!"

Eleanor was adamant that if the male members of the family wanted her to do their wash, that they had to get the laundry to her on a daily basis. Jeff did this, as did Alan and occasionally Gordon. Scott, John, and Virgil, however, washed their own laundry. They were used to doing it from when they lived away from home and felt that Grandma really didn't need the extra work and hassle. _Besides,_ Scott thought as he prepared to haul his overflowing hamper downstairs, _Grandma still uses bleach on all white t-shirts, whether they are decorated or not!_

As he passed Gordon's room, an idea hit him between the eyes and he grinned wickedly. _Hmm. I think I'll do a little bit of Gordon's laundry for him._

Scott checked to see if anyone was around before slipping quietly into Gordon's room. He went straight to the bathroom, where he knew he'd find several of Gordon's swim suits hanging up. Gordon only wore low cut Speedos, just as he did when he was at the Olympics, and he took special care of them. He wore a fresh one for each swim, washing them by hand to remove the sea water or chlorinated pool water. After washing, he hung them up to dry in his bathroom so that they didn't shrink. Scott grabbed all that he could find, wet or dry, then raided the drawer where Gordon kept the rest. Returning to the hall, he pushed his prizes deep into his hamper and resumed his journey to the laundry room.

Arriving at the high-tech washing machines, Scott pulled out a swimsuit and read the laundering directions. _Hmm. Hand wash in cold water. Line dry._ A grin spread over his face. _Not today, Gordon, my boy. Today, machine wash in hot water and dry on high heat! But I'd better be quick about it. There's no knowing when Gordon will want to take a swim!_ He stuffed the Speedos in the washer and started it up.

He consulted his telecomm watch. "Scott to John."

John's sweaty face appeared on the watch's screen. "John here. What's up, Scott?"

"Where are you and Gordon right now?"

"Approaching the path from the beach and headed back to the Villa. Gordon wants to take a swim."

 _Uh oh!_ "John, can you stall him?" Scott asked nervously.

"Stall him? What for?"

Scott sincerely hoped that Gordon couldn't hear the conversation. "Never mind why, just stall him!"

John frowned. "Scott, what are you up to?"

"Nothing you want to know about," Scott shot back. "Stall him and I won't tell Grandma where her best frying pan went and who took it there."

"Scott! You... you...!" John scowled. "Okay. I'll do what I can. John out."

 _Whew! That was a close one!_ Scott thought, wiping his brow.

For the next forty-five minutes, Scott paced the floor of the laundry room. Washing the suits only took twenty minutes, drying on high another thirty-five. As soon as the dryer's buzzer went off, he hurried to pull them from the machine. "Hot! Hot! Hot!" he hissed as he handled the suits. Flinging them into a small clothes basket, he hurried upstairs.

The hallway outside the bedrooms was empty, so Scott stole back into Gordon's room. He took a handful of suits into the bathroom to hang up again as best he could. Holding one out for visual inspection, he grinned. _Yes! This is a fitting reprisal for those monogrammed bikinis!_

Quickly folding the remaining suits, he slipped them into Gordon's drawer. Suddenly, he heard voices in the hall: Gordon and John were coming this way. Grabbing the basket, he bolted for the balcony, sliding the door back a split second before Gordon entered the room.

"Thanks for the tennis game, John! That was a good idea," he heard Gordon say genially. "But I think I'll pass on a second game. I want to do my laps before I'm all worn out."

"Okay, Gords," John said, his voice muffled from his position outside the doorway. "See you around."

Scott moved down the balcony, away from Gordon's room, careful not to pass in front of the windows. He walked down to John's room, basket in hand, and peered through the glass door. When he saw John enter, he rapped on the glass, and his brother let him in.

"I stalled him as long as I could. What the hell was that all about?"

Scott huffed. "I couldn't help myself, John. I found another one of those monogrammed bikinis today. I just had to do something. So, I did Gords a little favor and washed his Speedos."

"You washed his Speedos?" John asked, puzzled.

"Yeah. And dried them. On high," Scott replied.

John's eyes went wide as the implication of the deed struck him. "You didn't! Those things will shrink to the size of... g-strings!"

"Yeah, they did," Scott said smugly. "If this doesn't motivate him to break his resolution, nothing will."

Meanwhile, Gordon pulled a fresh Speedo from his drawer. He noticed that it felt a bit warm, but didn't think anything of it. Stripping, he slipped the swimsuit over his feet and pulled it up. Frowning, he pulled and pulled, trying to inch the garment up over his thighs. He finally managed to yank it up, but it felt very uncomfortable.

"Man, this is tight!" he muttered. "There's no way it covers my butt!" He opened his closet, looking at himself in the full-length mirror. "Ugh. Major butt cleavage! This one doesn't fit any more."

He pulled it off with some difficulty, tossing it aside before dipping into his drawer for a fresh suit. Again, he noticed the relative warmth of the fabric but put it aside as he drew the garment on over his legs.

"What is with this?" he huffed as he struggled to slide the suit up. "Have I put on weight or something?"

He removed the second suit and pulled out a third. This time the warmth sent a warning to him. He lifted the suit to his nose. _Fabric softener? How the hell...?_ He thought for a moment, eyes widening as the reason for the sweet smell dawned on him. _Someone washed these suits and put them. in. the. dryer!_

Frantically, he pulled the rest of his Speedos from the drawer and unfolded them. Lining them all up, he noticed that they were all of a size, as in, too small. He groaned. _Wait! What about the ones in the bathroom? Surely they didn't go through the wash!_

He hurried into his lavatory to pull down all of the suits that hung there, drying. Bringing one after another to his nose, he smelled the same perfume, the scent of the fabric softener that his grandmother used in the dryer. He brought them back to the bedroom and lined them up with the other suits.

"No!" he cried. "They've _all_ gone through the dryer! They're all ruined!"

Defeated, he sank heavily onto his bed. "What am I going to do? I mean, yeah, I can still swim if I wear a pair of shorts, or even one of my short drysuits. But it's just not the same! There's no way in hell I'm going out in public with a pair of... of those on! How did they get in the wash? I'm sure Grandma would have noticed them and pulled them out. She knows how I am about my swimsuits." He frowned. "Hey, wait a minute! Dad took Grandma to Wellington today to shop! There's no way she could have done this. These suits were still warm from the dryer. So, which one of my brothers would do this to me? It wasn't John; I was with him most of the day. Alan's had his fun, and so has Virgil. That leaves only - Scott? Why the hell would Scott pull a stunt like this?"

A brief flash of memory showed his brother blushing a furious red after opening one of Gordon's better gag gifts. _The bikinis? Could he be getting back at me for those? Man, that was well over a year ago! Still, for whatever the reason, he must have been the one to do it. And just like the other two, he's taking advantage of my resolution, figuring he's safe._

He put his head in his hands. _I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I made this decision. But it's so important that Dad knows I can be serious about life._ He uncovered his face and sighed. "Maybe Dad and Grandma are still in Wellington and I can ask them to buy me some fresh swimwear. At least ask Dad; Grandma would buy me surfer shorts or something." Getting up, he pulled on some shorts and a t-shirt, heading toward the lounge to contact his father.

Later in the afternoon, Scott watched from the balcony as Gordon swam back and forth, wearing a pair of athletic shorts. Every so often, the swimmer had to stop and pull the water-logged shorts up to cover his privates. But he doggedly kept going, back and forth, completing his daily laps.

Virgil walked up and tapped Scott on the shoulder. "John told me what you did. What happened to 'no sabotage'?"

"It went in the trash with the last of those monogrammed bikinis," Scott replied, not turning to his brother. He shrugged a shoulder in Gordon's direction. "Just look at him. All his favorite swimwear ruined and he's still in the water. He's got a lot of resolve, that's for sure. I was certain that he'd realize who it was who did the deed and come after me. But he hasn't."

"And I don't think he will, Scott. I think we have all misjudged Gordy's intentions here."

Scott sighed. "Yeah. And you know what? Life around here is going to be a whole lot more boring without his pranks."

"Yeah. It will."

_January 10_

Jeff and Eleanor were already on their way back from their shopping when Gordon placed his call. So he decided to take a trip there himself to pick out his own new swimsuits. Jeff approved of his excursion, for more reason than just the shopping trip.

"Kyrano and Tin-Tin are flying first-class commercial from Paris; they should be arriving in Wellington around three this afternoon. I was going to meet them, but since you're going to be there, you might as well greet them and bring them home yourself."

"Sure, Dad. No problem," Gordon said with a smile. "I've missed Tin-Tin's smiling face and it'll be good to have Kyrano back, too."

"Then it's settled," Jeff said. "Have a good time shopping. We'll see you later this evening."

Choosing and purchasing the Speedos didn't take long, so Gordon whiled away his time buying more clothes for himself, or just window shopping. He tried hard to stay away from his favorite joke and novelty shop, but at last, temptation overwhelmed him and he went in.

"Hello, Gordon," called the proprietor, Ian. "Long time no see! Looking for something in particular?"

"Nah. Just browsing today, thanks."

He walked up and down the aisles, picking things up then putting them back down. Some of the items brought forth memories of pranks played before. He smiled slightly as he remembered the reactions and facial expressions. But nothing else seemed to appeal to him; no new product jumped out at him with that blaze of inspiration that meant a great joke to play on someone. At last he tired of browsing, deciding to head for the airport early.

"Thanks, Ian," he said as he left the store.

Ian frowned at his back. "Now, what has happened to my best customer?" he wondered aloud.

At the jetport, Gordon found the arrival gate for the Kyrano's flight and stood by to wait for them. First class was let off the jet through a separate exit and into a plusher, less crowded lounge area. Gordon's face split with a grin as he saw first Tin-Tin's dark head and Kyrano's silver one come down the ramp. He put his hands in his pockets and waited for them to notice him.

Strangely enough, Tin-Tin was about to walk right by him when he called her name. "Hey, Tin-Tin! Where're you going?"

She turned. "I beg y... Gordon? Is that you? What did you do to your hair!?"

He pulled her into a strong, brotherly hug, reaching over to thump Kyrano on the back. The retainer shook his head as he stared at Gordon's nearly bare scalp.

"I think there is a story to tell concerning Mr. Gordon's hair," Kyrano commented.

"Yes, there is, Kyrano. I'll tell it to you both on the way back home," Gordon replied. "Let's get your bags."

In the plane, Gordon told the Kyranos all about his New Year's resolution and what had been happening since he made it.

"I think it's terrible that the others have taken advantage of you this way!" Tin-Tin cried. "Especially Virgil! That was a very nasty thing for him to do!" She gave him a warm smile. "I'm very glad you have not stooped to their level and kept your word, Gordon."

"Well, I really want to show Dad that I can be serious about life," Gordon replied. "Besides, I've dished it out enough in the past. Time to show I can take it, I guess."

"You can, Gordon. You're probably one of the strongest personalities I've ever known, aside from your father. Once you set your mind to it, you can do it," Tin-Tin encouraged. She sat back with a happy sigh. "I'm so looking forward to getting back home. Paris during the holidays is wonderful, but it feels good to get back to the routine after so much excitement. I can hardly wait to see Alan!"

The Tracys were waiting for the Kyranos as Gordon taxied the jet into its berth in the long wing off of Thunderbird Two's hangar. Tin-Tin got genuinely affectionate hugs and kisses from everyone... except Alan. He merely leaned over to give her a peck on the cheek, saying, "Hello, Tin-Tin. Welcome home," before he went to help unload the luggage.

The hurt on Tin-Tin's face was reflected in frowns on the faces of both fathers and looks of surprise from the other brothers. Eleanor stepped up to the girl, giving her a firm embrace. "I'm so glad to see you, child. Come on upstairs and tell me all about your holidays." With her arm around Tin-Tin's shoulder, she herded the girl up to the house.

Jeff and Kyrano exchanged looks and began to talk quietly together as they walked to the lift that would take them to the house. Gordon turned to smack his brother on the arm with the back of his hand.

"Why'd you have to be so cool to her? From watching the two of you, one'd think you weren't together anymore."

Alan rubbed his arm and scowled at Gordon. "As I told the other guys, Tin-Tin and I are re-evaluating our relationship. We'll probably end up as good friends."

"That's not what Tin-Tin thinks," Gordon retorted. "She was really looking forward to seeing you."

"I tried to tell you, Alan," John said, shaking his head. " _You_ may be 're-evaluating' but she's not. She knows what she wants."

"Well, I'm not ready to settle down and be serious yet," Alan replied. "She'll just have to live with it." With that, he grabbed two bags and stalked off to the elevator.

The other Tracys watched him go. Scott shook his head. "He doesn't see what he's doing. I for one wish he would wake up and see what he's got."

Gordon nodded his head in agreement, grabbing a suitcase and his shopping to follow his brothers back to the house.

Scott waited for the rest of the day for his doom to fall, but it didn't. As the sun set, he watched Gordon and Tin-Tin take a long walk on the beach.

"Well, my money's gone south," he commented to John, who joined him on the balcony.

"Mine will, too, I'm sure," John murmured. "He's really set on this resolution."

"With Tin-Tin back to encourage him...." Scott let his sentence trail off. He turned to John. "How about a game of pool?"

"Sure. But for fun, not for money," John said as he followed Scott down to the games room.


	5. Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's odd how things go sometimes. You start off a story with one idea, you change it to another, but then the characters take it totally out of your hands. This is what happened with this chapter. I'm not quite sure it's as finished as I'd like, but sometimes when you come to a stopping place, you have to stop.
> 
> Many thanks to my sounding boards for this one: Amanda Tracy and Math Girl. Final chapter tomorrow.
> 
>  _Disclaimer:_ I don't own them, I just write about them.

_January 11_

"Well, looks like it's down to just you and me, John," Jeff said at the breakfast table before Gordon put in an appearance.

"What happens to the money if he never caves?" Virgil asked. "Are you going to give it back?"

"I thought about giving it to him. It might make up for all those ruined swim suits," Jeff said, giving his eldest son a raised eyebrow.

Scott opened his mouth to reply, but just then, Gordon made an appearance.

"Good morning everyone," he said sleepily. The family around the table answered him. Kyrano set a cup of fresh fruit before him.

"Oh, thanks, Kyrano," he said. Glancing around the room, he asked. "Where're Grandma and Tin-Tin?"

"Grandma is sleeping in this morning, believe it or not," answered Jeff.

"Mr. Brains has left instructions for Tin-Tin," Kyrano said, bringing a plate of eggs and ham to Gordon. "She is in the laboratory."

"Thanks again, Kyrano," Gordon said appreciatively as he dug in. "It's good to have things pretty much back to normal."

"Well, they will be once Alan goes back to Five and Brains comes home," John commented. "I'm so glad that I'm not going back to the station right away. Spending the holidays with my family is a treat!"

"We're glad to have you home," Jeff said. He looked up to see Eleanor come into the room. "Good morning, Mother."

"Good morning, Jeff, boys. Good morning, Kyrano. Oh, this fruit salad looks lovely. Thank you for jumping right back into the household chores, Kyrano. The boys have been a big help, as long as they were given the right motivation."

"Yeah, like being bullied into it," Virgil said with a grin.

"Now, now, Virgil. I didn't have to bully Gordon all week," she replied, tipping a wink at her buzz-cut grandson. "Is that hair cut okay, dear?"

"It's great, Grandma. Definitely a 'wash-and-go' kind of style," Gordon replied, returning the wink.

Jeff folded up his paper and rose, taking his coffee cup with him. "Alan, when you're done with breakfast, I'd like to see you in the office."

"Sure, Dad," Alan said from behind his racing magazine.

Gordon finished his breakfast and went out for a run on the beach. John waited for him at the base of the bluff.

"So, what do you think Dad wants to talk to Alan about?" John asked.

"I dunno," Gordon said as he stretched. "Maybe briefing him on returning to Thunderbird Five. Brains is doing some extensive upgrades on the translation programs. That's not something you'll have to worry much about."

"Nah, especially since I helped write them," John said with a grin. He straightened up. "Ready?"

"Yep. Let's go." The two men began their jog across the white sands.

\--------------------------------

Sometime later, a disgruntled Alan left the lounge, his father's speech ringing in his reddened ears. Hands in the pockets of his shorts, he sauntered down the stairs to the pool, deep in thought.

 _What does he expect of me? Yeah, I said that this life is too dangerous to share it with anyone. There's no way in hell I want to leave a wife and children behind the way we were left. That's why I've distanced myself from Tin-Tin. I know it's hurting her; it's killing me, too. But it has to be done. I can't get serious about any girl._

"Hey, why the long face, kid?" Scott asked as he came out to the pool to find Alan sitting on the covered swing.

"None of your business, Scott. And I'm not a kid. I haven't been one for a long time," Alan growled.

"Could've fooled me, the way you treated Tin-Tin yesterday," Scott shot back as he laid a towel on a nearby lounge chair. "Not to mention the stunt you pulled with Gordon."

"Hey, look who's talking, Mr. Shrinky-Dink," Alan sneered. "You should at least reimburse him for the suits."

"He doesn't know who it was," Scott retorted. "I didn't go around advertising my involvement."

"Yeah, well it's a good thing he _is_ sticking to this resolution of his or you'd be just as dead as Virgil and I would be. I'm sure he's figured it out by now," Alan snapped. He rose from the swing. "I doubt John or Dad will do anything to hedge their bets."

"Bets? What's this about a bet?" came a familiar voice from the stairs to the pool. Tin-Tin descended, tucking her hair up under her favorite pink swim cap. She was dressed in a hot pink tankini with a white blouse over it for a cover up. She dropped her towel on the lounger next to Scott's, gazing at each man quizzically as she slipped out of her sandals.

"Well? Who will tell me about the bet?" Her eyes flicked from man to man, resting longer on Scott than on Alan.

"Aren't you supposed to be in the lab?" asked Alan.

Tin-Tin rolled her eyes. "I'm taking a break. Scott, tell me about this bet you've been talking about."

Scott sighed. "You know this resolution that Gordon has made, to not play any more pranks?"

Tin-Tin nodded, folding her arms across her chest. "Yes, I do. Go on."

"Well, Virge said he wouldn't last a week. On the way home, Dad and I started talking and it seemed that none of us thought he'd be able to keep his resolution. So I suggested we have a wager on it. Each of us chose a day by which we thought Gordon would cave. Whoever was right would win the pot."

Alan joined in. "Yeah. So far Scott, Virge, and I are out of the running. Gordon's stuck by his guns. No matter what we've...."

"What you've done to him?" Tin-Tin finished his sentence, frowning. "So, the reason you all have been tormenting him is to win a bet? That's low, really low. So, all of you are involved? Even Mr. Tracy? I can't believe it of you!"

Both Scott and Alan avoided her gaze. Finally Scott spoke. "Look, Tin-Tin. We didn't mean him any harm, any more than he's meant us harm when he's pulled some of his practical jokes. I don't think anything more will happen to him. John's far too laid back to do anything and Dad? Well, Dad wouldn't think of it. So he's safe. He's hanging in there, too, despite what we thought. I don't know how or why, but he seems to have given up the jokes for good."

Tin-Tin slipped back into her sandals and picked up her towel. "I don't think I want to swim today. At least not in your vicinity. You've disappointed me, Scott: you and Virgil and especially you, Alan," she said angrily. Pushing Scott aside, she left the pool area, heading for the path to the beach.

Scott and Alan watched her go. They exchanged embarrassed glances. Scott sighed again before turning to the pool, climbing up to the high board, and diving off. Alan shook his head and went back inside the Villa.

Halfway down to the beach, Tin-Tin stopped suddenly. _I wonder if Mrs. Tracy knows about this?_ Abandoning her swim, she turned around, returning to the house to search for Eleanor.

\--------------------------------

Gordon and John were cooling off from their run, walking together over the clean beach.

"So," Gordon asked, smiling slightly. "When are you going to lower the boom?"

"What do you mean by that?" John responded.

"I mean, when are you going to get even with me? Try to make me dump my resolution?" Gordon shook his head. "Alan, Virgil, and even Scott have done their bit. You're the only one left."

"Gords, you know me better than that. If this resolution means so much to you, then more power to you. I'm not the type to hold a grudge," John said. "Besides, I can never think up anything as good as you do. There's nothing I could do to match that green dye."

Gordon barked a laugh and smiled at John. "Thanks ... I think. It's good to know that I don't have to take my shower head apart every time I step in the tub."

John thumped him on the back before turning a thoughtful eye on him. "What got you so serious about this anyway? It really came as a bolt from the blue."

Gordon slowed his walk, sighing. He looked first at his toes, and then at the sky as he spoke. "Well, I happened to overhear a bit of conversation between Dad and Lady Penelope. Dad was talking about how he wished one of us would get serious about things, that the fooling around was getting hurtful. I figured they were talking about me. I mean, I probably do the most 'fooling around' of anyone in the family." He turned to John. "I wanted to show Dad that I could be serious about life."

"Aha! So that's where this came from." John nodded his head in understanding. "That's why you've been like Gibraltar when put through the wringer."

"Yeah. I just want Dad to know he can count on me--that I think about more than where my next joke is coming from."

John chuckled. "Hate to tell you this, squirt, but I think Dad already counts on you. He knows that you've got more depth than you sometimes show. There's not one of us who takes more care during a rescue, who is more focused or serious. If this resolution of yours has shown us anything at all, it's how determined you can be when you've got your mind set on something."

"Determined? Or just plain stubborn?" Gordon asked with a grin.

"Both."

The two men chuckled. John nudged Gordon in the ribs. "I think you should talk to Dad about this. Ask him what he meant when he said what he did. Clue him in to the real reason for this resolution of yours. I think he'd be proud of you."

"You think?" Gordon asked hesitantly. John nodded.

"Okay. I'll talk with him after my swim." By this time they were climbing the path to the house. "Coming in?"

"Yeah. That sounds like a good idea."

\---------------------------------

"Yes, Tin-Tin. I'm aware of the wager," Eleanor said with a sigh as she poured herself a glass of iced tea. "They must have thought that I was asleep when they discussed it."

The two women were seated at the kitchen table. Eleanor squeezed a lemon wedge into her tea and stirred it with a long-handled spoon. She sipped it before put the glass down firmly.

"I don't know all the details of the bet but I think most of the hijinks going on around here have been a result of it."

"Yes, Mrs. Tracy," Tin-Tin replied. "Scott and Alan intimated that this was the case." She paused to sip her fruit juice. "What do we do about it? Do we tell Gordon?"

"Now, I'm of two minds about that, Tin-Tin. It would be a blow to Gordon to learn even his father thinks he can't stick to his resolution. There are some things best left hidden under that bushel, if you know what I mean. I don't think John or Jeff would do anything in the way of a practical joke like the others have; John is too laid back and Jeff's too ... fair, at least in matters like this."

"Do you think that Scott, Virgil, or Alan would try again without the incentive of the wager?" Tin-Tin asked.

Eleanor frowned. "Scott wouldn't. Virgil, well, he's a little more iffy, but I'd say it's unlikely he would. Alan is a definite maybe; he'd be more likely than the others, especially since he's been Gordon's partner in crime more times than I can count." She sipped her tea again. "I wish I knew what brought on this resolution of his in the first place."

"Oh, Mrs. Tracy! I can tell you that!" Tin-Tin cried. She related the conversation she and Gordon had on the way home from Wellington.

Eleanor nodded. "Now things are a bit clearer and I can see my way. I think that the first thing to do is to tell Jeff about this so he can have a heart-to-heart talk with Gordon."

"Do you think it will help?" Tin-Tin asked doubtfully.

Eleanor smiled. "If I know my son, he'll cancel that wager in a heartbeat, probably swearing the others to secrecy about it."

"What do you think Gordon will do?"

"That's a little bit harder to guess. He might decide that stopping the practical jokes is better than playing them. Or he may decide to start them up again--with a vengeance. Then, too, he might choose to just cut back on them and play them when he's particularly inspired, or on April Fool's Day or something of that nature."

Tin-Tin smiled. "I'll admit that life is a little more exciting here when Gordon's playing his pranks. They keep us on our toes between rescues."

Eleanor was about to agree when the emergency signal went off, causing both women to jump.

"That's the real excitement around here," she said wryly. "I guess I'd better put off my conversation with Jeff until the boys are on their way back home."


	6. Retribution

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter, as promised. I hope you've enjoyed this little romp and find the ending satisfying. Thanks to FrankieCTB2 and Math Girl for being sounding boards. Jeff's early adventures on Tracy Island are taken from "The Complete Thunderbirds Story," in _Thunderbirds the Comic,_ Issue No. 45, June 26-July 9, 1993, pp. 11-14. The WSA stands for World Space Agency, the group responsible for putting Jeff Tracy on the moon.
> 
>  _Disclaimer:_ I don't own them, I'm just writing about them
> 
> * * *

_January 11 continued_

Jeff sent Gordon and John with Virgil to search for some rally car drivers that had lost their way in the Gobi desert during the first, and probably last, Beijing to Moscow race. Brains used the scanners in Thunderbird Five to pinpoint each of the three rally teams that had gotten turned around when their GPS systems went haywire. Scott tracked down one team, guiding them back to the nearest check-in point. John used the Recovery vehicle to pull another team off of a glacier in the mountains of the Gobi, while Gordon used Thunderbird Two's clamps to retrieve the third, still-occupied vehicle, from a deep ravine.

"How they managed to live through it is beyond me, Father," Gordon said as he returned to Thunderbird Two's flight deck. "The side of the hovercar was smashed. I guess the hoverjets provided some kind of cushion."

Alan stayed behind as Jeff deemed it too dangerous to send him out to a venue where he might be easily recognized. He spent some time practicing his putt on the small green that Jeff had installed near the house.

As the rescuers were on their way home, Eleanor brought coffee in to Jeff and told him, "We need to talk."

\----------------------

Scott stretched and massaged the back of his neck. True, the rescue wasn't one of the hardest they'd ever had, but he was still tired. He took off his sash, slinging it across the back of his chair before pulling off his turtleneck, putting it in his nearly empty hamper. He was about to remove his uniform pants when something on his bed caught his eye. Frowning, he walked over to pick it up. It was a sealed white envelope with his name on it. Opening it up, he found a sum of cash and a note in his father's strong handwriting. The note said simply, "The bet is cancelled."

 _That's an interesting development,_ he thought as he pulled out the cash and transferred it to his wallet. _Wonder what brought it on?_

_January 12_

Gordon sauntered down the path to the beach, ready for his morning run with John. _It's been great to get out there with him,_ he thought. _We've really been able to catch up and talk._

To his surprise, it wasn't John tying his running shoes at the bottom of the path. It was his father.

"Dad?" Gordon asked, puzzled.

"I asked John if was all right for me to take his place today," Jeff explained. "Is that okay with you?"

"Uh, sure, Dad," Gordon replied. "You're welcome any time."

"Good," Jeff said with a grin. "Just go easy on the old man, okay?" He stood and looked over the beach left and right. "Which way do you usually go?"

"Out toward the northern beach," Gordon said, pointing to the right. He gave his father another puzzled look. "Dad ... why do you want to run with me today?"

"John tells me you two have some good conversations on your runs. I've got some talking to do and, for once, I'd rather do it away from the office."

 _Uh-oh! Now comes the 'confrontation' that Penelope he suggested he have,_ Gordon thought in dismay. _Here I thought I'd been proving myself to him._

"Ready, son?" Jeff asked, walking out onto the pristine beach.

"Yeah, Dad." The two of them began a jog toward the northern part of the island.

Gordon let Jeff set the pace and found that his father wasn't too much slower than John. They ran side by side down the firm, damp sand left behind by the waves. The younger man kept looking over at his father, checking to see that he wasn't getting too red or out of breath. But Jeff, who had kept up a fitness regimen ever since his days in the Air Force, handled the pace well.

They came to a pile of boulders that spilled out into the sea, marking the boundary between the wide beach of the western side of the island and the narrow strip of sand that sat at the bottom of the island's highest spot. Beyond the boulders, the sea was dotted with rocks, making it too dangerous to swim or surf. But a little way beyond was the wider beach that faced north-northeast, which sported the best surfing on their little piece of paradise. The ocean there was devoid of the obstacles to swimming and the strip of sand was wide. More importantly, there was a fresh water rivulet that trickled down a cut to the sea.

Gordon climbed the rocks, reaching a hand back to help Jeff, who was unfamiliar with the hand and foot holds of the barrier. He led the way to the other side, beginning the cool off process. Once free of the cliff that rose above their heads, the two men matched strides again, finally slowing down as they reached the small creek. Gordon took the lead again, guiding his father into the shade of some palm trees by the gurgling water.

"Hmm. Been a while since I've been on this side of the island," Jeff admitted as he splashed his face with the fresh water. "I'd almost forgotten that the spring was here. I remember being really glad to have found it when I was doing my 'Robinson Crusoe' thing, courtesy of the WSA."

"I can't remember: how long did they leave you here?" Gordon asked as he rummaged around in a plastic storage chest near the stream. He took out a pair of empty bottles, handing one to his father. "Here's a purifying tablet to clear the water of possible nasties."

"I don't remember the spring that feeds this having any nasties," Jeff commented. "But it's still a good precaution. To answer your question, I was here for ten weeks."

"Wow! Mom must have been worried sick!"

"She was pretty worried, but the WSA assured her this was part of my training and they were keeping an eye on me from afar." Jeff shook his head. "It was the longest ten weeks of my life!" He filled his bottle, popped in the tablet, shaking the bottle before taking a long drink. "Nothing like spring water to quench a man's thirst." He sat down with his back to a tree and stretched out his legs.

There was silence between the two for a long moment before they said in unison, "So...." The unplanned duplication caused them both to chuckle, and Jeff gave a wave of his hand, indicating that Gordon speak first.

"So, what did you want to talk about, Dad?"

"This resolution of yours. You seem pretty serious about it. I'm a bit concerned because your brothers have been taking advantage of it. I don't like that." He glanced over at Gordon, who was sitting on a low stone. "Tell me, what brought this on? It's not like you to drop something that you so thoroughly enjoy so suddenly."

Gordon looked away, huffing out a sigh. "Well, Dad, it's like this. I was on the terrace at Penelope's party when I overheard you and Penny talking. You were saying that you wished 'he' would see that his fooling around was being hurtful and would take things seriously. Penelope told you to confront him and then you moved away." Gordon looked down at the toes of his running shoes. "I figured you were talking about me. I do more 'fooling around' than anyone else in the family."

"Ah, I see." Jeff looked thoughtful. His gaze met Gordon's. "For the record, I was not talking to Penelope about _you_. I was discussing Alan and his recent treatment of Tin-Tin. The girl is deeply in love with him and this nonsense about his life being too dangerous to share with anyone has hurt her." Jeff snorted. "Of course our lives are dangerous! His life would be dangerous if he were racing! Scott's would be in the Air Force. I don't know why he has to insist on this now, when he's got the girl on a string."

He took another swig. "I had a talk with him yesterday on the subject. I don't know what good it did, but at least he knows where I stand."

"Oh," was all that Gordon could say. The fact that his father had _not_ been talking about him was still settling in.

There was another silence. Then Jeff spoke again. "I want you to know that I am proud of you, Gordon. I've never been displeased with your work; you have always been the focused, consummate professional during rescues. And though your ... ahem ... pranks occasionally cause uproar in the household, I understand that they're one way that you deal with the pressures of our work. You keep your brothers on their toes and make us laugh when we really need it." He reached out to put a hand on Gordon's shoulder. "I don't mind the new, serious Gordon, but I do sort of miss the old, joking one."

Gordon thought about his father's words for a few minutes. Then he asked softly. "Is this your way of winning the bet, Dad?"

Jeff's eyes grew wide and he sat up suddenly, startled. "How did you find out about the bet?"

"I overheard you talking about it yesterday at breakfast," Gordon replied. "You said that you and John were the only ones left. What happened? The others dropped out?"

Jeff sighed. "No, the others lost. It's a moot point anyway. I cancelled the bet last night and returned their wagers."

"Why?"

"Because it was wrong. Because I realized that though I said that you could do anything you put your mind to, I wasn't following that up with my own actions or attitude." It was Jeff's turn to look at his shoes. Glancing up, he locked gazes with Gordon. "I'm sorry, son. I should have known better. You fought your way back from near death. That more than anything else should have told me that you could keep your resolution."

He took a deep breath. "I just want you to know that you don't _have_ to keep the resolution to let me know how serious you are about things. Do you understand?"

"Yeah, I do," Gordon replied. "But it was ... a shock to think you all figured I'd cave on this." _And a shock to hear you apologize to me!_

"It was a bit of a shock to me, too," Jeff admitted. "Especially from Alan. But you proved them, and me, wrong, while taking a lot of garbage from them in the proving of it."

"John never did anything ... except put his money into the wager," Gordon said ruefully.

"You're right. He didn't. You'll probably want to talk to him and your other brothers. As will I," Jeff replied. He wiped his forearm across his brow, looking up and squinting. He glanced back at Gordon. "Do you have anything you need to say to me?"

Gordon thought for a moment. "Noooo, I don't think so right now."

"If you do think of something, come see me. I want the air totally cleared about this situation." Jeff got up from his sandy spot, brushing off his shorts. "Let's head back. The sun is getting high and I've got work to tend to back at the villa."

"Yes, sir." Gordon took the bottles to rinse them out, putting them back in the storage cube.

"Nice idea that," Jeff said, indicating the cube. Gordon nodded his acknowledgement, and the two men began their trek back to the house.

\-------------------------

Gordon came back inside from his swim, feeling refreshed. He met Tin-Tin in the hall, a stylus over one ear, a data pad in her hand, and her lab coat on, not watching where she was going.

"Hey, Tin-Tin," he said.

She looked up at him and smiled. "Hello, Gordon. How was your swim?"

"Great! I had a good run with my Dad, too."

"Ah! That reminds me. Your grandmother wanted a word with you," Tin-Tin said absently.

"Thanks, Tin-Tin. I'll see her as soon as I get changed."

Once he was showered and dressed, Gordon went in search of Eleanor. He found her sipping lemonade in a shady spot outside the dining room, right below the wide balcony on the upper floor. He noticed, with amusement, that she had been expecting someone for there was a second glass on the small table next to her.

"Hi, Grandma!" he said, leaning down to kiss her cheek.

She smiled and put a hand up to his face, returning the salute. "Hello there, Gordon," she said. "I see that Tin-Tin gave you my message."

"Yes, she did. I see she gave you mine," he replied, sitting down and pouring himself a glass of lemonade. Just then, Tin-Tin, now dressed in a cool, sleeveless sun dress, came out from the dining room, a tall glass of lemonade in her hand. She joined the two who were sitting in the shade.

"Ah, good. Now that Tin-Tin's here, we can get started," Eleanor said. She fixed her gaze on her fourth grandson. "Now, you may not know this, but there's a wager on the books...."

Gordon held up a hand. "I know about it, Grandma. Dad and I had a long talk about it. He cancelled it last night."

"Ah!" Eleanor said, nodding. "I thought he might once I was through with him." She leaned towards him, as did Tin-Tin. "I've been thinking about this wager business and the hassle your brothers put you through over it. I--I mean, _we_ \-- think it's a shame that you haven't gotten some of your own back."

"But Grandma," Gordon protested. "If you want to get technical about it, my brothers were getting some of _their_ own back. I can take it as well as dish it out."

"There's no doubt about that, Gordon," Tin-Tin piped up. "It's just that we're both upset they took advantage of your resolution to do it. So," here the two women exchanged glances, "we have a little prank of our own to pull."

"Yes," Grandma said with a surprisingly wicked grin. "One that gets back at all of them at once. We have Brains's cooperation and we need a little from you as well."

"I don't know about this, Grandma," Gordon said. "You realize that they'll think I did it and all their suspicions of me were true."

"Don't you worry about that, Gordon. We will make it very clear that we are the instigators ... once the whole thing is over," Tin-Tin said. "Besides, I want to get in a poke at that Alan!"

Gordon sighed. "I don't suppose I have any choice here?"

"Not really," Eleanor said with a wink. "Not unless you want to get caught up in it."

"Nooo, I don't think I want that. Okay, Grandma, Tin-Tin. You can count me in. What do I need to do?" Gordon asked.

"All we need from you is a little play acting ... and your uniform," Eleanor said with that wicked smile as she told her grandson what she wanted him to do.

_January 14_

The thirteenth had been a relatively quiet day at the Tracy household. Tin-Tin went shopping with John, a situation that did not sit well with Alan, who moped around the house while she was gone. Scott joined Gordon in the firing range for some practice, and handed him an envelope.

"I hear you know about the wager," he said. "This was my portion of it. I want to reimburse you for the Speedos."

Gordon accepted the money without comment. They had an impromptu shooting match, which Gordon won hands down.

Now it was the fourteenth, the day that Jeff Tracy said his son would drop his resolution and play a prank on somebody. As luck would have it, the emergency signal went off.

John, Scott, Virgil, and Alan hurried to the lounge, followed more slowly by a limping Gordon.

Jeff noticed the odd gait immediately. "Gordon, why are you limping?"

Gordon grimaced as he stepped down from the study to the lounge floor. "Uh, it's nothing, really, Dad. Just a twinge. I'll be fine. I'm ready to go."

"Not today, you're not. Off you go, Scott. John, you and Alan triple crew with Virgil. Take pod five with the Firefly and Fire Tender. Get moving, boys. Thunderbirds are go!"

Scott and Virgil headed for their respective Thunderbirds, while John and Alan went to the passenger elevator. Gordon sank into Thunderbird Three's sofa with a groan.

Eleanor and Tin-Tin came into the lounge. "What's going on, Jeff?" Eleanor asked.

"Refinery fire in Alaska," Jeff said tersely. "Mother, will you check over Gordon here? He says he's got a twinge but he's limping pretty badly."

"Of course, Jeff." She helped her grandson to his feet. The two women led him out of the room--as far as the study. They sat where they could observe without being seen and waited for the Thunderbirds to launch.

As Thunderbird One moved down her track toward her launch pad, Scott opened his uniform storage area, and pulled out ... his uniform?

In Thunderbird Two, Virgil decided to wait to toggle the switch that would bring his uniform storage capsule to light. Instead, he checked to see if his brothers were strapped into their seats, then opened up the cliffside hangar door. Steering the green cargo carrier out to its launch site, he activated the ramp and called back to the lounge, asking for clearance to launch.

"Thunderbird One hasn't launched yet," Jeff said. "Scott, what's the delay?"

"Uh, let Virgil go. I'll catch up to him," Scott said as he puzzled over why his shirt was too tight.

Jeff frowned. "It's not SOP, Scott."

"I know, Father," Scott said. "I'll be with him momentarily."

"Okay, Thunderbird Two, you're cleared for launch," Jeff told the pilot.

"F-A-B," Virgil replied. With the roar of the rear engines, the cargo carrier took to the sky.

Jeff got back to Thunderbird One. He opened communications with his oldest son. "What's the delay, Scott?"

"Uh, Father? I seem to have a wardrobe malfunction here...." Scott held up his uniform to the screen.

Jeff's jaw dropped. Scott had in his hands a brown leather sash. The shirt he wore was too small. Jeff could see the waistband of Scott's boxers peeking out from the bottom of the screen.

"The shirt is too small. The pants are too tight. I've got Brains's sash and Gordon's hat. At least I have my own boots."

"Oh great. Do you have a spare on Thunderbird Two?"

"Yes, Father."

"Then put your civvies back on and get going. I'll tell Virgil what's happened."

In the meanwhile, Virgil had taken the time to open up his uniform storage. He glanced at it, then did a double take. _What the hell?_

As Thunderbird Two leveled out, John and Alan headed for the crew's quarters where their uniforms and spare civvies were kept. Alan stuck his hand in the closet, automatically pulling out the hanger on which his IR uniform was kept. Not being as familiar with it as Alan was, John stood before the closet, moving the hangers back and forth. He pulled out the one marked with his name.

"Uh, Alan? There's something wrong here...."

"Thunderbird Two to base. We have a problem," Virgil said as his screen flicked into life. "We've had a major uniform mix up. My pants are too short, the arms on the shirt are too short, and I have Scott's sash." He looked behind him. "John and Alan have similar problems. Alan's pants are too big, his shirt's too tight, and he has Gordon's sash. John's pants are too big and too short, and the shirt's too big. We do have our own boots. And none of us have our own hats."

"Whose sash does John have?"

"Uh, yours, Dad."

Jeff huffed. "Hmm. I wonder if Gordon was really hurt...." He looked up at Virgil. "What about the spare uniforms?"

Virgil shook his head. "They're not here."

Jeff sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Well, sort it out as close as you can. Tell John that he's _not_ to wear my sash!"

"F-A-B. Thunderbird Two out."

" **GORDON COOPER TRACY!** " Jeff bellowed.

Eleanor stepped down into the lounge. "He's gone, probably to the pool," she said, a smile on her face.

Jeff scowled at her. "Did you hear what he did?"

She approached her son. "I heard. But he didn't do it."

"What?! Then who...?" Comprehension dawned on Jeff's face. "Mother...?"

"Yes, son?" she said sweetly.

Jeff huffed, an exasperated sound. "What are the boys going to do? They can't go out with their clothes like--like that!"

"They won't, Jeff," Eleanor said, her eyes twinkling merrily. "The spares are hidden in Thunderbird Two. I'll tell you where once they're fifteen minutes from the Danger Zone."

"But Scott! What about him?"

"His uniform is hidden in Thunderbird One. Same deal applies."

"But-- _why_?" Jeff asked in a plaintive voice.

"Why?" Eleanor said. "Because this was the best way that Tin-Tin and I could think of to pull a prank on all of you at once. I was very upset that you and the boys thought so little of Gordon's resolution. Tin-Tin was very disappointed with the boys and their pranks. So now we've 'expressed our displeasure' so to speak." She crossed her arms. "Gordon's only part in this was making sure he did not go out on the mission."

"So the limp _was_ faked," Jeff said, shaking his head. He gave his mother a long-suffering sigh. She stepped over to him, putting her hand on his arm.

"I haven't forgotten what you were like when you were a boy, Jeff. If I told the boys some of the pranks you pulled, they'd never believe me!"

Jeff began to chuckle. "Either that or you'd give Gordon a lot of new ideas." He bent over and kissed her on the cheek. "Tell me where the uniforms are, Mother. Please?"

"Oh, all right," Eleanor replied. "You know I can't resist when you turn on your charm."

\------------------------------

Gordon floated on the surface of the pool, imagining his brothers trying to put on the mixed up uniforms. The picture of Scott wearing Brains's shirt kept coming up and he chuckled. He heard someone dive in, feeling the ripples caused by their impact with the water. Without warning, he was grabbed by the waist from below and pulled under!

He broke free and came to the surface, sputtering. Tin-Tin stood in the shallow end of the pool, giggling.

"Oh, you want to play dirty, huh?" he said, advancing on her with a gleeful expression.

She backed away, holding her hands in front of her, saying, "Oh no, you don't! Gordon! Don't you dare!"

He chased her, shrieking, up to the flagstones and once around the pool before she dove in ahead of him. He followed, managing to grab an ankle and pull her under once she had surfaced from her dive. This time, she came up sputtering, pushing her drenched hair out of her face.

"Gotcha!" Gordon said. "Truce?"

Tin-Tin laughed. "Okay. Truce." She made her way over to the side of the pool and hoisted herself up, sitting so that her legs dangled in the water. Gordon joined her, putting his arms on the edge while letting the rest of his body float.

"So, what's going on with Alan?" he asked.

She sighed, then smiled. "Nothing. Absolutely nothing. I've decided that if he doesn't want to share his life with me, good riddance."

"Have you told him this?"

"Not yet. I think that I'll let my actions do the talking for the time being. The way he's done with me."

"You going to date other men?"

"You mean like Eddie? No, I don't think so. Not for a while anyway." She glanced down at him. "How about you? Will you go back to your old, practical joker ways?"

He looked off into the greenery that ringed the pool. "I don't know yet. It depends on if I get really inspired or not. At least I know that I don't _have_ to be serious to gain Dad's approval. He's approved of me all along."

"Of course he has. He just needs to tell you more often."

Gordon looked up at her and smiled. "You want to take a run on the beach?"

She returned the smile. "Sounds like a plan."


End file.
